Phoenix Rising
by Disgruntled Teddybear
Summary: They did not win. The Dark Lord won. Set in the years after the war, in the tyranny of Voldemort's reign.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **Don't own a thing, it all belongs to J.K Rowling.**

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**Prologue **

The woman's wail echoed around the cold stone room. She screamed in pain and squeezed her eyes shut. Her fiery red hair was plastered to the side of her face with sweat as she struggled to push out the enormous bulge in her stomach.

"Come on, you can do it," encouraged a plump midwife.

The young, redheaded woman gripped the blanket tightly as she gave another push. Rain drummed steadily outside, pouring out from the angry gray clouds. A single candle flickered on a small wooden stool in a corner of the room, threatening to die out. A roll of thunder boomed, reverberating through her bones.

The woman gave a moan of defeat as she stopped trying. "I can't – do it," she panted.

"You can do this, don't give up now." The older woman gripped her hand reassuringly. Her shoulder-length light brown hair was tousled.

The woman shook her head as all the grief from her past finally caught up with her. All those years alone after Harry had left her to go in search for the Horcruxes. He had succeeded, of course, as she knew he would. She never once gave up on him; she knew he would return to her. And he did. That one night with Harry, that blissful night, had left her in this situation. Then, after all her years of waiting for him, he had been cruelly taken away from her.

(Flashback)

_Still, lifeless bodies lay scattered everywhere. Screams rose up from the burning village of Hogsmeade. Smoke hung as thick as fog. Many of the shops were reduced to smoldering piles of wood. Dark, hooded figures fired jets of green light everywhere. Their white masks looked grotesque in the blood red light of the setting sun._

_Ginny shot every curse, every hex she knew at the cloaked invaders. Others fought along side her. She watched in horror as a jet of green light hit Ron, square in the chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. She saw Hermione call out and run to his side, sobbing. Another jet of green light hit her too, and she fell slumped over Ron's body. Ginny turned her eyes, full of blazing anger, to the Death Eater. The masked figure froze, blanching at the fierceness in her eyes. That hesitation was all Ginny needed before she knocked him out, damning him to hell all the while. _

_She heard Harry's voice call out to her above all the raucous. "Ginny, duck!"_

_Ginny did as he said. A flash of green light just missed her. In the corner of her eye, she saw the huge figure of Kingsley Shacklebolt fall. Ginny could make out the lifeless body of Tonks beneath a fallen Death Eater, her bright pink hair standing out like a beacon. Lupin lay next to her._

_They were losing. There were more and more Death Eaters apparating in every second. Each loud 'pop' increased their dread and ate away ate their hope. Their hope of winning was gone. Their hope of defeating Voldemort was gone. The only thing left was just simply the hope of survival, but that too was rapidly disappearing. Suddenly, a familiar scream filled her ears: Harry's scream. He was on the ground, doubled up in pain. Voldemort stood over him, his scarlet eyes seething with hatred._

"_No!" cried Ginny, but she knew it would be pointless._

_Voldemort looked up and just for a second, through all the chaos of fighting people, their eyes met. Ginny shuddered as his wide, livid red eyes met her gaze, all the while torturing Harry. Voldemort lifted his wand, leaving Harry moaning on the ground._

_Suddenly, Ginny heard a voice in her head: Harry's voice. **Run**_

_Ginny shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "No," she whispered weakly._

_**Run**, said the voice more forcefully._

_Tears now blurred Ginny's vision. Voldemort seemed to be saying something to Harry, but she just couldn't make it out above all the noise. She only heard the voice in her head._

_**Run! Ginny, I love-** the voice was abruptly cut off as Voldemort raised his wand again. This time though, instead of Harry's scream, a blinding flash of green light erupted from the tip of his wand as she saw him mouth those deadly words: Avada Kedavra._

_She watched helplessly,as if in slow motion, the jet of green light inch closer and closer to Harry. He was giving his life to save her. He was using all his time and energy using Legilimens on her, when he could be defending himself. Ginny saw the jet of light meet its target._

_Then she did it. She knew she would regret this later. She was sickened by what she was doing, she should be there by his side, but instead, Ginevra Weasley ran. _

The painful images of the past were suddenly broken as pain erupted within her again. She had to do this, do this for Harry. With an almighty push and a strangled cry, the baby was born. Its wail filled the room as the midwife gently washed it in a basin of warm water, wrapping it in a soft woolen blanket before placing the newborn on Ginny's chest.

"Congratulations," she said with a warm smile. "It's a girl."

The baby gave a few more cries before falling silent, looking up at Ginny with wide, innocent eyes. Ginny gasped as she saw her. A single tear rolled down her cheek. She looked so much like him, with the same bright green eyes and dark hair. Harry would have been proud.

"What will you name her?"

Ginny gazed lovingly at the baby, pausing a second before whispering, "Hope."

"I'm guessing she looks just like her father?" said the plump woman, noticing the difference between mother and daughter.

"Yeah," Ginny breathed.

Suddenly, she snapped out of her reverie. What was she thinking? She couldn't keep this baby. Voldemort was still hunting for people connected to Harry Potter. She shuddered to think what would happen to the baby if he found out she was Harry's daughter.

Ginny pushed the baby into the older woman's arms. "I can't keep her. Please, can you take care of her?"

Ginny could tell that the woman had gotten this reaction many times before. The midwife shook her head. "She's yours dear. You'll be fine."

Ginny sat up. "No, it's not because of that. Please, I can't take her."

The woman sighed. "I'm sorry dear, but I can't"

"You don't understand," Ginny said, her eyes pleading. "It's because of _him._ _Voldemort._"

The woman gasped and shuddered at the name. She looked at the younger woman and realised this was no joke, she was telling the truth. She nodded gravely, "I will take her."

Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"May I ask what you name is?"

Ginny hesitated before answering. "Ginevra. Ginevra Weasley"

"And the father?"

Ginny shook her head. "I'm sorry, I can't tell you that."

The woman nodded. "I understand."

"Please, take good care of her?"

"I'll treat her as if were my own child."

Ginny gave a small smile, and with tears in her eyes, pushed herself out of bed. Her whole body ached from the labour, but nevertheless, she stumbled towards the door and disappeared without another word.

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How was it? This is my second story, so it's a bit better than my first one (I hope!). And I know it says in the summary that this is "set in the years after the war," and you were expecting to read about that, but this is only the prologue so the REAL story will begin in the next chapter!

Please Review!


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: Ok, um… after this chapter I don't know how you guys will feel about this fic. I must warn you, it won't be as dramatic as the prologue. I can just imagine your faces, dreading reading the blocky paragraphs as you scroll down. It's necessary though, because I need to introduce the characters, explain the situation and such and such. Please read though! Otherwise, nothing will make sense. 

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, except the plot andcharacters you don't recognize.

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**Chapter 1**

Raylene Stewart watched as the little girl with messy raven hair played on the floor of the circular room. The four other four-poster beds around the room were occupied. Raylene tucked her shoulder-length light brown hair behind her ears as she gazed lovingly at the little girl who was shrieking with delight at the ragged doll she was playing with. Raylene smiled at the wonder at how she could find delight in almost anything, even that old rag doll. She ached to fix it for her; she could have done it easily with a flick of her wand, but the Death Eaters had taken it off her when they were captured and locked in Hogwarts, just like a hundred other families.

Hogwarts, once the safest place, was now a prison. The ancient spells that once protected it were now the only things keeping them in. Except, perhaps, the Death Eaters guarding them, and the handful of Dementors. She wondered why they were keeping them in Hogwarts, what they would do to them.

The room was stuffy in the sweltering heat. The wooden boards covering the window refused to budge, so they endured it with a lot of sweat and hand flapping. No one dared go outside, lest they cross a disgruntled Death Eaters path.

A blonde, middle-aged woman lay in the bed across the room, staring blankly up at the ceiling. A whole family of five was huddled up together on one bed near the back, next to another occupied bed with its hangings drawn around it. A young couple sat perched on the end of another, whispering quietly to each other, while a copper-haired boy, who looked to be about the little girl's age, dozed.

The little girl on the ground looked up at her, shifting her attention from her doll. "Mummy?"

"Yes Hope?" answered Raylene with a smile.

"When are we going home?"

It broke her heart to have to tell her that they probably never would, that they would have to spend the rest of their lives here, unless, by some miracle, they were rescued.

"Soon honey," she said instead, pulling Hope up onto her lap. "Soon."

"Are we gonna meet Daddy soon as well?"

Raylene sucked in a breath. Hope had been asking a lot of questions recently, a lot of questions that not even Raylene could answer. Raylene often wondered herself who her father was, and her mother for that matter. What was her name again? Ginerva? Ginevra? Yes, that was it. Ginevra. Ginevra Weasley. She remembered that night clearly. Remembered the fear and desperation in her eyes. She had said Hope was in danger. Well, not exactly like that, but she could tell by the look in her eyes that it was serious, something involving the Dark Lord.

Raylene's heart clenched at the mere thought of Hope getting hurt in any way, especially by the Dark Lord. She had grown to care deeply for Hope, and loved her like a daughter. She would rather die before letting anything happen to her.

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A fifteen-year-old Hope Stewart sat on the ground, her back against the wall and legs stretched out in front of her as she gazed up at the enchanted ceiling. She watched in wonder as delicate flakes of snow drifted down daintily from gray clouds. It looked so real, almost like being outside. Almost. 

She tried to ignore all the noise in the large hall as she imagined herself being outside, touching that pure white snow, breathing in fresh air, feeling the wind on her face.

_BANG_

Hope was very rudely snapped out of her daydream as something exploded on the other side of the Great Hall. Things often blew up, broke, was flung to the other side of the room, or dismantled somehow in this castle. Her mother told her it was because they all had magic, that years ago, everyone had a wand; even half-bloods. She found that hard to imagine.

Hope swept her gaze across the Hall. There was a little pocket of raucous over where the sound had come from, but otherwise there was nothing out of the ordinary. Babies wailed without pause, their cries echoing around the enormous hall. People muttered to each other, no one daring to talk to anyone they didn't know. No one trusted newcomers. Anyone could easily be a Death Eater. Hope remembered, just last week, Bobby Strausky had foolishly been talking to a stranger, inquiring about the outside world and wondering what it would be like to use a wand. The stranger had turned out to be a Death Eater sent in as a spy. Spying for what, exactly, Hope didn't know. They had no chance of ever escaping this place anyway. Bobby had been taken away on the offense of 'leading a revolt against the Dark Lord.' He had never been seen again.

Hope looked over at a crouched figure next to her. The man wore filthy rags and his greasy hair hung over his dark eyes. He stared blankly ahead as he sat huddled, slumped against the wall. His eyes were like two deep wells; empty. There were quite a number of people in the castle who were like this. Everyone just said that they had just lost the will to live on in this grim place. But for Hope, this place was all she knew. She had lived here nearly her whole life, and didn't know anything besides.

Her mother had once told her that this place had been a school; which explained all the desks, classrooms, and dormitories. Sometimes, Hope tried to imagine herself attending such a school, but the illusion was a hard one to conjure with the ever-present stench of thousands of unwashed people, the explosions, the dirt, and of course, the hopelessness of it all.

Hope's gaze wandered away from the man and around the hall again. Every space of living area was taken up. People sat huddled against the walls, using whatever scrap of solid material they could find to prop up over themselves for a roof. Walls were fashioned from threadbare curtains pulled down from boarded up windows for privacy.

Hope was one of the lucky ones, if you could call it that. She and her mother, at least, had a bed to sleep in, since they were one of the first ones to come here. It was all the way up in the other end of the castle, in one of the many towers. But the people in this hall were not the last of them. All the empty rooms were occupied, and yet more people, those who couldn't squeeze into the packed rooms, made their homes in various corridors throughout the castle.

No one, though, dared to go onto the seventh floor. They were banned from going up there, and Dementors guarded the entrance continuously. No one knew what was up there. Some said it was where the Death Eaters tortured people. Others said it was the headquarters of the Dark Lord himself.

There were no Death Eaters, at least. They used to roam the corridors every minute of the day, until the place had just become too packed. But when they did come, they were even worse than the Dementor's chilling presence. They picked on innocent people with their magic, in which they had no defense, torturing them for a laugh. Sometimes, they took thirty or so people with them, up onto the seventh floor. The innocent people, chosen at random, it seemed, came out as changed people. What they did to them up there, no one knew, but every last one of them came back like the man next to her: blank-eyed and silent.

Hope squinted at the clock on the far side of the hall, making out the hands. Nearly one o'clock. Lunch would be arriving soon. Sure enough, as the thin hand counting the seconds ticked towards the top, the clock rang out. The huge chiming bell echoed across the hall. The ever-present hunger gnawing at her stomach was raging in anticipation. Bowls full of cold porridge appeared in front of everyone. No matter how many times Hope witnessed this, it never ceased to amaze her. It made her want to do magic all the more. She quickly grabbed the chipped bowl in front of her and gobbled up the sloppy mixture. This was perhaps the only good thing in the castle; everyone got an equal share of food.

In a matter of seconds, she had finished and was scraping at the remains clinging to the side of the bowl. She wanted to savour it, make it last longer, but she had to go check on her mother. She watched as the empty bowl disappeared with a soft 'pop'.

"Hope!"

Hope looked up at the sound of her name. A boy, about her age, was making a beeline towards her, sidestepping feasting people. His coppery hair flopped over his eyes as he waved to her. She smiled and waved back.

"Hey," he said, finally reaching her. It was Michael, her best, and only friend. He had also been one of the first people here. She had known him ever since … well, ever since she could remember.

"Finished you're lunch already?" Hope asked incredulously as he pulled her up.

He grinned. "I was hungry."

Hope shook her head disbelievingly. If there was anyone in the world who could swallow the earth whole, it was Michael.

"Your mums looking for you," he said, his voice suddenly serious.

"She's alright isn't she?" Hope asked hurriedly. Her mother had been one of the many to fall ill. Living in suchcramped conditionswhere sickness thrived, it was a wonder they all hadn't fallen ill.

"She's…" Michael paused. "You better come and see for yourself."

Hope tugged at the filthy robe she wore, which hung off her skinny frame. Her figure wasn't much to look at, it was more like a boys, really, than a fifteen-year-old teenage girl. She brushed a strand of permanently messy black hair out of her eyes.

Hope followed Michael out of the hall, wringing her hand nervously. She shuddered at the chilling atmosphere out in the entrance hall, where she knew the Dementors lurked, just beyond the huge, double oak doors. Her bare feet made a slap-slap-slapping noise on the cold marble of the staircase, which was badly in need of a scrub after years of neglect. She walked silently as Michael lead her through corridors full of people lining the wall, eating their bowl full of porridge messily. Her eyes had nothing to focus on; her gaze kept slipping off the bare stone walls, where she remembered portraits once hung.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of nervous nail biting, they reached their destination; a round hole in the wall at the end of a corridor. Hope clambered through after Michaeland rushed up a flight of stairs, ignoring the grumbles of people as they reluctantly shuffled out of the way. She burst into a circular room full of people and spotted her mother immediately, lying on a four-poster bed.

"Mum!" Hope cried out, rushing to her side and kneeling next to the bed.

Her mother turned her head towards her and smiled wearily. Beads of cold sweat dotted her forehead, and her face was flushed with fever. Hope checked her temperature by placing the back of her hand against her forehead. She gasped.

"You're burning up!"

Her mother shivered, despite her fever. Her light brown hair, which was streaked with strands of grey, was messy and clung to the base of her neck with sweat.

"Hope?" she croaked, her voice hoarse.

"Shhh, mum. I'm here," said Hope, gripping her mother's clammy hand.

"Hope. I need to tell you something."

"What is it?" she asked as she dunked a square of cloth that had fallen down into a small basin of cool water. She wrung out the water and folded it, placing it on her mother's forehead in an effort to cool her.

"I don't have much long to live - "

"Don't say that," Hope interrupted, her eyes fierce. "You're going to get better. You just need rest."

"No, Hope. I don't have much time. I can feel it, feel it in my bones."

Hope shook her head firmly. "No, mum. You're not going to die. I won't let you. You _will _get better."

"I'm sorry Hope, but my time has come."

"No," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. "No."

"I need to tell you something," croaked her mother.

She leaned in, not wanting to miss a word.

"I should have told you this a long time ago, but I wanted to protect you… and… you were in danger… Dark Lord…"

Hope had no idea what she was going on about. Maybe the fever was making her delirious.

"… but the time has come for you to know. I… I am not your mother"

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Thanks to: 

**Britney Lauren****, Twin Tails Speed, Daniel Radcliffe's Angel 10689, galleena, Kunai-chan, OperaGustus, Kittels, SongOfRoland, Danica01, Stasya, banner, SVU Lover4ever, Hope Wheeler, QuidditchGal89, All-knowing Alien, rkkiesasello, phoenixtear19, Phyre's child13, BLACKvWIDOW, oXShadowXo, ShyOrangette, The Female Nerd, linac428, DarkRoseRaven, Anonymous, Mrs. Radcliffe 13, Luckygurl12, rynayetra, surf all day and do the hula, Sesshomaro, Padfoots Daughter-Mivea, c.vigil xX**

You guys are the greatest!


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Don't own anything, everything belongs to J.K Rowling… except the OC's! They're mine! Mwahahaha! Ha… ha… ha? Oh yeah, and the plot. Plot is mine! Thank-you for listening.

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**Chapter 2**

Hope sat up abruptly. "What?" she said loudly, causing a few heads to turn and glare.

"Your mother – your real mother – is Ginevra Weasley."

_It's the fever, she's not thinking straight,_ Hope thought to herself.

"You were in danger," her mother continued, "so she asked me to take care of you. I'm sorry I had to tell you now, Hope."

Hope shook her head. "How?" she whispered. _How could it be? _

Her mother gave her hand a slight squeeze. Hope wrenched her hand from hers, finally reacting. "Why didn't you say anything? All those years, and you tell me now?"

"I know, Hope, and I'm sorry," she rasped.

Hope stood, her fists clenched, and turned her back on her. She could feel her mother's eyes on her, watching her walk away with deliberate determination. Hope wanted to turn around; to say it was okay, but she didn't. The news had been dumped so suddenly on her that she didn't know what to do. So she kept walking.

Hope spotted Michael waiting expectantly at the bottom of the staircase. He looked up through his curtain of coppery hair as he saw her descending. "You okay?" he asked, his brow creased with worry.

It was only then that she realised the tears tracking down her cheeks. "I'm fine," she mumbled.

He put a reassuring arm around her, patting her back. _Was it true? Could her real mother actually be someone else?_ Tears threatened to overwhelm her. She pulled herself out of Michaels embrace and turned to leave.

"Hope," he called out after her.

"Leave me alone!" She quickened her pace, as if running would banish the swirling confusion of thoughts in her head. She ran, dodging people and jumping over sleeping bodies. Her legs burned as she pounded up a flight of stairs. Her breath became laboured as she panted for air.

Suddenly, Hope felt herself falling, tripped up by a stretched-out limb. Her hands slapped painfully on the stone-flagged floor as she fell. Several people snickered, but she was too caught up in her thoughts to care. She crawled over to an empty spot near the wall and lay down. Tears streamed down her face, but it was not because of the fall. Could it be? Could Raylene Stewart, her mother for all of her fifteen years, _not_ be her mother? Could her real mother be out there somewhere?

She didn't know what to make of it all. What had she said her supposedly 'real' mothers name was again? Ginevra-something. Ginevra Weasel? Ginevra Weasley? Yes, that was it. Ginevra Weasley. _Hope Weasley, _she thought to herself. She shook her head. The name sounded unnatural to her. _Hope **Stewart**,_she corrected herself. _**Not **Hope Weasley._

She wondered whether Weasley was her mother's maiden name. If it was, who was her father? _No, no, what am I thinking? I am Hope Stewart, I am Hope Stewart, I am – _

"Congratulations," muttered a sarcastic voice next to her. She realised she had been speaking her thoughts aloud. She shot a glare at the man, bundled up from the cold in red velvet drapes that she guessed had once been the hangings from a four-poster bed. His face was hidden in shadow, underneath his cocoon of draperies.

Hope reached up to flatten her unruly hair, that, despite being clumped with grease, flicked out in every which direction. Bathing was a luxury reserved for once a month, sometimes even longer. Hope always washed herself down with a wet rag every day or two though, unlike some people who didn't even bother that. She could tell by the smell coming from the man next to her that he was one of those people.

Her legs felt like lead, heavy and sore with exhaustion. She had used up all of the meagre energy gained from the porridge. She felt her eyelids droop until she could only see the corridor through a narrow slit. In her last moments of consciousness, she made a decision. Her mother was delirious. She wasn't thinking straight; it was the fever that was making her say all those things. She would just take a quick nap, and see to her once she woke up. Finally, her mind settled, and Hope let the cloudiness of sleep that was clogging her mind envelope her.

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The distant ringing of the clock signalling dinner roused her out of her sleep. Hope peeked through one eye and sat up abruptly. The corridor was dark, but she could make out the sight of huddled figures clutching their bowls of porridge. She hadn't meant to sleep for this long. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a sly hand reaching for the bowl in front of her.

"Hey!" she said, slapping it away.

It was the smelly man from before. He had finally shed his makeshift blankets and she could make out his features in the dim light. His hair, or what was left of it, was a matted mess. He had disturbingly yellow eyes and when he grinned evilly at her, she was awarded with the sight of his rotting teeth, the top two missing all together.

"Well you weren't eating it, I just thought…"

"You haven't even finished yours!" exclaimed Hope, indicating his own bowl of porridge, which he was now hurriedly trying to hide beneath the drapes.

"Greedy pig," she muttered. Hope picked up the bowl, turned away from the man, and began eating. Today was a good day; the porridge was warm. The bowl was empty in a matter of minutes, and she stood, heading towards the direction she thought she had come from.

_Okay, don't panic, _Hope thought to herself as she turned another corner to face yet another corridor full of people. _You are not lost. Just breathe. _Something, which seemed a little bit like hysteria, was beginning to rise in her. Hope gave herself a mental kick as she scolded herself for not paying attention to where she was going before. The castle was a big place after all, and, with no portraits to act as landmarks, you could easily get lost.

Hope picked her way through the sleeping bodies, wishing that the corridor had a lamp. The Death Eaters had taken away all the lamps and torches from the castle on that day, years ago, when a group of people had tried to escape using fire to burn down the entrance doors. Not one of them had escaped. Now that the privilege of fire had been taken away, all activity immediately died down after sunset.

Hope then spotted something familiar: a body wrapped in red drapes. Her heart sank. She had been going in circles. She sank down onto the cold floor; defeated. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, willing herself not to cry. She had to get to her mother right away.

"Hope!"

Hope turned at the familiar voice. The dark figure rushing down the corridor soon came into focus. It was Michael.

"I was looking for you everywhere!" he exclaimed, ignoring the calls of 'shut up!'

"I… I got lost," she said, looking down.

"Hope… your mum."

"What about her? She's alright, isn't she?"

He sat down next to her. "She's - " But Hope already knew. She knew by the tone of his voice what had happened. "Dead," he whispered.

Hope covered her gasp with her hand. Tears welled in her eyes and poured down her cheeks. Her sobs came in sharp pulls as she wept. Michael wrapped his arms around her as he let her cry on his shoulder.

"Its all my fault," she sobbed. "I shouted at her, I said stuff I shouldn't of and now…"

"Shhh," whispered Michael, rubbing her back reassuringly. "Its not your fault."

But he didn't know. He didn't know what her mother had told her, how she had reacted, and what she had said. If she just hadn't said those things, would she have survived? Now she would never get to speak to her again. Her body shook with racking sobs as she cried, letting the tears flow freely down her cheeks.

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The next few days passed by in a blur – a blur full of tears and grief, but most of all: guilt. Whenever Hope was sure that she could cry no more, she was proved wrong by another fresh wave of tears. Michael was a real friend; never once giving up on her; always there to comfort her.

It was another typical day after her mother's death. Hope was sitting in her usual spot in the Great Hall with her back against the cold stone wall. The enchanted ceiling now failed to give her that sense of happiness, that sense of freedom she always felt when looking into the sky. She doubted whether she would ever feel happiness again.

Her eyes were red and swollen from crying and her cheeks were wet with tears. She tried to ignore the ravenous hunger clawing at her stomach. Hope didn't notice Michael walking towards her until he stopped right in front, casting a shadow over her. Hope looked up at him in question.

"Here," he said, putting a bowl of warm porridge next to her as he sat down. "You have to eat something."

"I'm not hungry," she said, pushing it away.

"Hope, you haven't eaten in days. You've gotta eat something."

"I'm not hungry," she repeated in the same glum tone.

"Hope, for the last time, your mother's death wasn't your fault!" he cried, lifting his hands up in the air, clearly losing his patience.

Hope stayed silent.

Michael sighed, taking a deep breath and speaking again, his voice hushed. "There's going to be a revolt, Hope."

Hope looked up at him in surprise. "What?"

"A revolt," he repeated. "Tonight. There's this group of people and they're planning a revolt against the Death Eaters. It could be our chance to escape."

Hope shook her head; she knew it would be pointless. The last time a group had tried to escape, they had all been killed. On the spot. Hope had witnessed it.

"It won't work."

Michael's face changed, then. "What's wrong with you?"

"_Me?_"

"You've changed, Hope. You used to be full of, well ...hope. Remember when we were kids? And you used to always comfort me when I cried, and tell me we would get out of here someday?" Michael shook his head at her. "Where's the Hope I knew?"

"She's gone," she told him flatly.

Michael stood up. "You know what? Forget it. I'm justgoing togo ahead with it, and if you don't want to join in, fine. See if I care." And with that, he turned and was gone. What Hope didn't know was that that was the last time she would ever speak to Michael again.

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Please review! (I know you want to). How was this chapter? Did you enjoy it? I know nothing much happened, but tell me what you thought of it. 

Thank you soooooo much to those of you who reviewed! Mwah!

**Mrs. Radcliffe 13** (Yeah, hehe, I like cliff-hangers), **The Female Nerd** (Yeah, Hope is beautiful name isn't it? But her name also has relevance to the story, as you can see in the first chapter: Ginny sees her as hope for the future... or thats what I hoped it would sound like), **Phyre's child13** (poor you, at the crack of dawn? Yeesh. Must be hard. Well, I hope you passed some time reading this chapter!), **aubreysvampiregirl** (Glad you like it. And no, Michael is not a Weasley. Although, now that you mention it, he does seem like it), **rosiegirl** (hope you liked this chapter!), **All-knowing Alien** (just a normal sickness that comes from living in crowded conditions, didn't really think too much about it), **Aussie-Girl3** (thanks! I'm glad you like it), **galleena** (yeah, I do get what you mean, but I'm too lazy to change it. Thanks for the that, though), **SongOfRoland** (thanks! Hope you enjoyed this chapter), **Danica01** (lol, ok! Glad you like it), **Kates Master **(I always have computer problems too. If I told you, it would ruin the surprise!), **phoenixtear19 **(yeah, it is sad. And there's more to come! But don't worry, it has a happy ending), **linac428 **(ok!), **gohan8k **(It is original, isn't it? Not mean to be boasting or anything btw. I came up with the idea when I realized that there were no fics with Voldemort winning), **Lsquared **(thanks!), **surf all day and do the hula **(thanks! Glad you enjoyed it, hope you liked this one!), **Kittels **(yes, it was sad. And there's more sadness to come! But it's a happy ending), **Luckygurl12 **(here's the update that you wanted!), **OperaGustus **(Hehe, yes I am evil. I just love cliffies), **Britney Lauren **(No, Michael isn't a Weasley. Now that I go back and read it, he does seem like one. Just between you and me, there _is _going to be a Weasley in the next chapter. Or maybe the one after that. And the man sitting next to her in the Great Hall wasn't intended to be Snape. And yes it does have something to do with the Room of Requirement), **hippie of purple **(no, she's not the heroine. I guess you haven't read chapter 2. Thanks for reviewing!), **BLACKvWIDOW**(thank-you for reviewing! Here's that update you wanted, hope you enjoyed)


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: sorry about the long update! Just finished writing it now. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

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**Chapter 3**

Hope bit her nails, her nerves getting the better of her. The skin around them was red and painfully raw from her gnashing teeth, and her backside was numb from hours of sitting on the cold stone floor of the Great Hall. Every sound, every explosion, made her jump and look around. What she was expecting to see, she didn't know, but she hoped it would be enough to overcome the Death Eaters. Because if it wasn't, Michael would be in big trouble...

Hope looked up at the enchanted ceiling, hoping that the sight of the expanse of stars would calm her nerves. They didn't. _Your mother – your real mother – is Ginevra Weasley._ No matter how hard she tried, she could not those words out of her head. She knew now that she had to have been telling the truth. Why would she lie about something as enormous as that?

Guilt still swamped her, but right now, her worry for Michael was stronger. Was he okay? Would he get hurt? She was sick with worry, and yet, she could not make herself get out there and help. She wondered what they could possibly do to defeat the Death Eaters. Hope knew it was impossible. As soon as she thought this, Michael's words rang in her ears. _'You used to be so full of, well ...hope'._ It was then that she finally realised how much she had changed. It was not her mother's death that had caused her to change - it was this place. This place where hundreds lived in abject poverty, this place where death roamed, this place where she had spent her childhood, had changed her – had sucked out her hope for the future. Michael was right; they had to get out – and fast. No sooner had she made up her mind that she heard noises out in the Entrance Hall. It did not sound like the usual accidental explosions.

Hope scrambled up and sprinted towards the doors. The usual crowd of people were already there, but they were all standing. Shrieks rang across the hall, and people scurried to and fro. Hope tried to push her way through the crowd to see what was going on, without success. She instead settled for leaping up and down and catching glimpses of the scene ahead,grateful – for the first time – for her gangly height.

A scruffy looking man with dirty blonde hair was facing the doors, shooting jets of light at three Death Eaters guarding the door. He dodged the countering attacks of the Death Eaters who had their backs to the double oak doors. Hope wondered how he had gotten the wand, before she noticed the limp body of a dark cloaked figure on the ground. She jumped again, and caught a glimpse of another man sneaking up behind a busy Death Eater, brick clutched in his hand. She fell back to earth before she could see what happened. With an annoyed huff, she leapt for the sky, just in time to see him bring down the brick – hard – on the Death Eaters head, sending him sprawling to the ground. He snatched the wand from the fallen Death Eater and joined the duel. _So that's the plan, _Hope realised, _just knock them out and steal their wands._

A loud bang exploded through the hall, and Hope saw the scruffy-looking man flying through the air, landing hard on his backside at the other end of the Entrance Hall. The other man, now armed, shot a jet of red light at another Death Eater, who stiffened as straight as a board and fell. Now there was only one Death Eater remaining. Well, at least until the others came. Just as Hope was about to leap, she caught a glimpse of a familiar mop of coppery hair through the throng of shrieking people.

"Michael!" she called out, but she soon lost sight of him.

Hope finally gave up on the jumping, and determinedly started elbowing her way through the crowd. She was almost knocked over at one point by a large, beefy man, but continued on, reaching the front. She could see Michael clearly now, sneaking up behind the remaining Death Eater, a plank of wood held at the ready. She watched, heart thudding, as he crept forward.

Suddenly, she realised the crowd was parting, and she stood aside too. About a dozen Death Eaters ran towards the fight, shouting out. Michael took this moment of distraction to swing the plank of wood at the Death Eaters head, instantly knocking him out. With a shouted incantation, a Death Eater at the head of the group pointed his wand at Michael, which sent him flying just like the other man.

"No!" Hope screamed out, but it was drowned out in the chaos of the hall.

She looked desperately around. Michael had said there was a group of people planning this. Surely he meant more than the three of them? Sure enough, she saw a couple of people clutching planks of wood in their hands, hurriedly hiding them under their robes. _Cowards,_ she thought bitterly.

The crowd surged in around her again, and she found that she was stuck in the middle. She tried the elbowing technique again, but this time it only resulted in glares and shouted curses.

"Stop!" she called out as the Death Eaters magically started transporting the offending group up the marble staircase. She saw Michael's body floating ahead of a Death Eater like a puppet on a string, his head lolling to one side. She had to get to him.

By the time Hope got out of the crowd and raced up the stairs, the Death Eaters were no longer in sight. They had gone up to the seventh floor.

Panic arose in her, suppressing her breathing. She had to tell someone, but who? _Michael's mum! _she thought suddenly. She did not know his mum well, but it was the first person she could think of. Hope had known his dad as well, but he had passed away a few years ago from illness. She raced back down the staircases, not caring when she ran into people. Finally, she reached the hole in the wall and clambered through. She immediately caught sight of Michael's mother, who was chatting to another woman on the couch.

"Mrs Watson!" she blurted out loudly.

Michael's mother looked up and smiled warmly at her. Her short, coppery hair matched her sons. Before she could open her mouth to answer, Hope hurriedly continued. "It's Michael, he's been captured by Death Eaters!"

Mrs. Watson's face paled and her eyes widened. She bolted up from her seat and came towards Hope. She gripped her shoulders in both hands while scrutinising her under her gaze.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice quavering.

Hope nodded tearfully.

Mrs. Watson gasped, and stood frozen with shock. Hope touched her shoulder, and murmured a few incomprehensible words. Mrs. Watson sank down onto the cold stone floor and let out a tearful cry.

"My Michael, my precious Michael," she wailed.

This was not helping. Hope had come to get help, but obviously she had come to the wrong person. What would they do to him? Hope had feared they would kill him on the spot, just like last time, but obviously they had other plans. Her heart thudded, racing a mile a minute.

The other woman Michael's mother had been talking to came over and started to comfort her, shooting Hope a few killer glares as if it were her fault. Hope made a split second decision, and ran out of the room. Her legs burned as she thudded up a flight of stairs, and then another, and another... until she finally reached the sixth floor.

The corridors were deserted in this area, and Hope knew why. The air was thick with a chilling presence: the Dementors. The Dementors guarded the only staircase onto the seventh floor night and day. Turning a corner, Hope saw the cloaked figure, floating to and fro near the stone steps. She raced on ahead, trying to ignore the mind-numbing chill. A Dementor swiftly swooshed in front of her, blocking the way.

"I need to get up there!" Hope cried, dodging the Dementors mottled hand as it came towards her.

She raced past the first, but another grabbed her arm unexpectedly. It's hands were ice cold on her flesh, and it gripped her with a surprising strength. She struggled against it, kicking out. Before she could call out, she heard voices and footsteps coming down the stairs. If the Death Eaters caught her here, they would do much worse than the Dementor... But the more she struggled, the more the Dementor's grip tightened. With a sense of helpless dread, she the shadows cast by the flickering torch light descend down the staircase.

The first person Hope saw made her heart rise. It was Michael.

"Michael!" she called out.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? Seems like the Dementors caught a pretty little rabbit," said a Death Eater mockingly. He had a pale, pointed face with white-blonde hair.

Michael was walking ahead of him, along side the two other men that had been in the revolt. But as they drew closer, Hope noticed something was not quite right about the three of them. She realised the Dementor had let her go after the Death Eater arrived, and she rushed ahead towards Michael.

"Michael!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. She pulled away when he didn't answer. With a gasp, Hope realised he had the same, blank look like some of the people in the castle. His eyes were empty of emotion, and everything else, and he did not react when she called his name. She looked desperatly over at the other two men, and she realised they were in the same condition.

"What did they do to you?" she whispered, looking back at Michael, searching his eyes. He continued to stare blankly ahead.

"What did you do to them?" she said accusingly, glaring at the Death Eater. But the Death Eater seemed lost for words as he stared as if he recognised her.

"What did you do to him!" she screamed, tears in her eyes. Had they tortured him to madness? Put a curse over him? Anger burned inside her, demanding her to attack this Death Eater.

Instead of acknowledging her screams, he continued to stare at her with wide eyes. "It can't be," he muttered.

"What's going on here?" asked a voice from behind. Another Death Eater, attracted by all the noise, came up from behind her, looking from her back to the blonde Death Eater questioningly. "Well, Malfoy? What are you waiting for? Just kill her!"

The Death Eater raised his wand, but the blonde one stopped him. "NO!" he said, holding out his arm. He looked back at Hope, his eyes leering. "I think the Dark Lord would like to meet you."

"What are you talking about?" asked the other Death Eater, but the man named Malfoy merely ignored him.

"C'mon, girl. Let your boyfriend go."

Hope still determindely clung to Michael, who was still not responding. She glared daggers at the Death Eater, but her heart was pounding. Had he said that the Dark Lord would want to meet her? But why? She remembered her mother mentioning something about the Dark Lord, but Hope hadn't understood. Why on earth would the Dark Lord want anything to do with her?

"You're gonna be like that, eh? Well, no problem," he said, raising his wand.

The next thing she knew, there was a great flash of light, and Hope felt herself falling into darkness.

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As soon as she slipped back into conciousness, she felt her body aching all over. Her limbs were stiff from lying on the cold ground. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw that she was in a large, circular room. She wondered how long she had been here. Probably only a few hours, as everything was still dark. With a groan, Hope sat up and kneaded her stiff shoulder. She could hear footsteps pacing outside, and see the sliver of light underneath the door.

As the events of the past few hours washed over her, she realised how stupid her actions had been. She had achieved nothing, and had gotten herself captured. Ithad beenmore an act of desperation then logic.

"Michael," she whispered to herself, tears welling in her eyes. At least he wasn't dead. But then, what had happened to him? His eyes had seemed so empty, as if... as if he had no soul.

With a shudder, she remembered what the blonde Death Eater, Malfoy, had said. Were they going to take her to the Dark Lord? What would he do to her? All this waiting was unbearable, and she had a sickening feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.

Suddenly, with the heavy sound of a bolt being slid open, the door opened with a creak and light spilled into the room. Hope lifted her arm to shade her eyes against it, and caught a glimpse of a tall, red-haired man being dragged into the room before the door slammed shut again. She listened in silence as the man lay panting on the ground. She edged away from him, towards the door and the light.

"He's a Weasley," said a voice on the other side of the door. Hope stiffened when she heard the name. Weasley? Hadn't her mother been a Weasley? So was this man related to her?

"Um... excuse me," she said apprehensively.

"Who's there?" said the man. He probably hadn't realised there was anyone else in the room.

"Um... Hope," she said, hoping that he would somehow recognise the name. If he was a relative, wouldn't he recognise it?

"Who?"

She saw him pull something out of his robes, and she shrank back.

"_Lumos,_" he said, and a bright light illuminated the room.

"You - you have a wand!" Hope exclaimed.

"Shhh, they'll hear you," he said, pointing towards the door. "Now, what did you want to know?"

"Well," Hope began, but she was cut off by his surprised expression. It was that same expression of recognition that had been etched across Malfoy's face.

"My God," he whispered, eyes wide. Hope noticed that his grey-streaked red hair was tied back and a tooth of some kind dangled from one ear. Before she could ask what was wrong, he continued. "You look exactly like him. But how can it be? Unless... unless he and Ginny... No, it couldn't be." Hope got the impression that he was talking more to himself than to her.

"I look like who, exactly?"

"You don't know?"

Hope shook her head, impatient. She was finally going to find out who her father was!

"Harry Potter."

She gasped at the name. Harry Potter. The last time somebody had mentioned that name, they had been killed for it. Harry Potter had been a dark wizard, years ago, who had tried to overrun the Dark Lord. They had been told that they would have been much worse off than they were now had Harry Potter succeeded.

Surely, this man would know all this? After Hope had told the man all this, his eyes grew steely with anger. "So this is what they've been telling you, is it? Lies?"

"But - but they're not lies."

The man shook his head, his fang earring dangling, and laughed bitterly. "Imagine that, Harry's own daughter believes he's evil. What would he say if he knew that?"

Before Hope could open her mouth to speak, he ploughed on. "Harry Potter was not a dark wizard, nor was he power hungry like You-Know-Who. He was the only one who almost succeeded in overcoming the Dark Lord, but You-Know-Who got him in the end."

Hope was silent.

"You didn't know you were his daughter, did you?"

Hope shook her head, her mind still reeling from what he had told her. It seemed that in these last few days she had found out that her whole life was based on foundations of lies, and only now, after fifteen years, were they being knocked down.

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Thanks for all the great reviews! I'll try to reply to all of them. Please review!


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: none is mine. 

A/N: Action-filled chapter for yous! Enjoy!

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**Chapter 4**

"Hope, did you say your name was?" asked the red haired man.

Hope nodded. "Hope Stewart," she said, without thinking. "I mean... I guess I'm... Weasley..."

"I'm Bill," he said. "Bill Weasley."

"Do you know someone named Ginevra?" Hope asked.

"Yes. She's my sister."

So this Bill Weasley was her mother's brother, which meant that he was her uncle. There was so much stuff she wanted to ask, she couldn't get her mouth around all the words. She studied his face, which was riddled with pock marks and scars. There was something wolfish-looking about him, and the way his eyes sometimes seemed a little yellow in the light of his wand. She wondered what sort of creature might have attacked him to disfigure him so.

Bill whispered something, and the light on the end of his wand went out, plunging the room into darkness once more.

"How come they didn't take your wand off you?" Hope whispered.

"They did. But I stole it back when they were dragging me in here. Not very smart, those Death Eaters," he said, and Hope's mouth twitched into a smile.

She saw his dark silohuette stand up, and she followed, wincing at the prickling sensation that shot up her leg.

"We better get out of here before they realise it's gone," he advised.

"But -"

Bill cut her off, putting a finger to his mouth. "There were only two guarding the door when I came in..." he muttered to himself, and crept towards the door, pressing his ear against the wood. Hope could see his mouth curve up into a smile as he did so. He looked back at her. "Snoring," he whispered.

Then he pointed his wand at where the bolt was assumed to be on the other side of the door, and whispered something that sounded like "_Aloha"_, which Hope was sure was a greeting in another language, but nevertheless, she heard the sound of the rusty bolt sliding out.

Bill opened the door, which creaked horribly, and Hope prayed that the Death Eaters would stay asleep. He motioned for her to follow and crept out the door into the corridor. As Hope tiptoed after him, she realised that both guards, who were slumped in chairs on either side of the door, were still asleep. One, a big beefy man, was making sounds akin to a volcano erupting, and Hope was surprised it did not wake the other, who was drooling slightly.

Tiptoeing down that corridor was excruciatingly hard, and every step seemed to echo a thousand times louder than it normally would. It wasn't until they got round the corner did Bill turn around and whisper to her.

"We're on the seventh floor! I recognize Dumbledore's office," he said, pointing to a large stone gargoyle. It was riddled with pock marks, and one of its ears was completely blown off, as if someone had tried to get inside – without success.

Hope had no idea who Dumbledore was, but there was no mistaking they were on the seventh floor. The corridor was deserted, and she felt a tingly chill in the back of her neck that reminded her of the Dementors.

"I've never been here before," Hope commented.

"I bet this is why," he told her as they rounded another corner.

Hope looked at him questioningly; there was only a stretch of blank wall. Bill did not reply to her look, but merely started pacing back and forth in front of the wall, muttering something under his breath. Hope looked on, intrigued. To her amazement, a highly polished wooden door appeared, looking as though it had always been there.

"How -?"

"Welcome to the Room of Requirement," Bill said, and opened the door with a flourish.

Hope gasped as a gust of chilled air hit her.

"What the -?" Hope saw the grin slide from Bill's face as he looked into the room. With a sense of dread,she looked in after him. She gasped.

It was a large room; almost as large as the Great Hall. Icicles of ice hung from the ceiling, like stalactites in a cave. Mist obscured most of the room, as thick as fog. The temperature just standing outside was below freezing, and Hope was sure that were she to enter, she would freeze up instantly. But it was not just the cold that made her shudder. That familiar sense of dread, of hopelessness, feeling like she would never be happy again, was back. Images of her worst memories flashed in front of her eyes, memories she thought she had long forgotten: being taken away from her home ...seeing the poverty in which people lived ...watching innocent people getting killed one by one... her mothers death... This could only mean one thing: Dementors. And sure enough, as the mist shifted, she could make out the outline of a dark, hooded figure. Except there was something wrong. The Dementor suddenly bent down, its body shaking as if caught in racking sobs. Beneath it's hood, something was emerging. Hope watched in horror as a fleshy sack covered in slimefell to the ground with a 'splat'. The mysterious sack, as big as her head, was pulsating slightly.

Hope hardly noticed that Bill was no longer standing next to her, but was a few metres into the room, going through a pile of things she had not noticed were there before. She could not pull her gaze away from the scene ahead. Her eyes got wider as the mist shifted again, exposing more of the fleshy, slimy, pulsating sacks scattered about the room, all different sizes, the biggest one as big as... well... a Dementor. There were more Dementors, bent over, regurgitating their own share of the mystery parcels.

"Put these on," said Bill, shoving a pair of dragon-hide boots into her hands.

"What? Why?" Hope blurted out, suddenly shaken out of her memories.

Bill's face was deathly pale, and beads of sweat dotted his brow. She knew the Dementors must be getting to him too. Hope bent down and pulled the shoes onto her feet, and to her surprise, they were a perfect fit. She struggled with the straps a bit (it had been a while since she had worn shoes) and stood to find Bill waiting for her out in the corridor, a pack slung over his shoulder and holding his wand. In his other hand was a sword incased in a leather scabbard.

"Get the brooms." Bill indicated behind her, and as Hope turned, she saw two brooms laid side by side on the ground.

She picked them up and hurried over to him, glad to put distance between her and the Dementors. Bill grabbed a broom from her and handed her the sword. It was surprisingly light despite its size, but before she could get a closer look at it, a voice echoed down to them from around the corner.

"_You let them get away_?"

"Lets go," said Bill, running down the corridor. Hope followed, running after him, her feet feeling odd incased in shoes.

"Oi!" called the voice from behind, but Hope did not turn around to see who it was, her panic making her legs work faster.

She sprinted down the corridor, legs pumping, avoiding jets of light that were now being fired from the Death Eater behind, who she could hear running after them. They turned a corner and Bill raced in to an open room. He hurriedly shut the door behind them, muttering a few words while pointing his wand at the doorknob. A light shot out the end, making the whole door glow for a few seconds.

"That should keep him busy." He turned back to face her. "Can you fly?"

"What? Um - no."

"Well you're gonna have to learn in about two seconds. When we jump out that window - " Bill indicated towards the large, open window, "- just pull the handle up. Got it?"

"I - I think so," Hope stammered, still unsure. She didn't know how to fly! What if the broom was faulty? What if she fell? What if -

But there was no more time for what-ifs. Bill was already at the window, pulling the pack on properly, and tucking his wand into his robes. Hope followed his lead and attached the scabbard onto her belt that held up her too-big pants that she wore under her robes. She could hear the Death Eaters pounding footsteps rapidly drawing closer. Hope gasped as Bill leapt out the window, dropping from sight, but then appearing a second later hovering outside the window.

Hope came hesitantly towards the window and looked out into the night. The glowing moon was a crescent, and a cool breeze blew through the trees. Then she looked down, and regretted it immediately. The height was staggering and the snow below seemed to swirl beneath her, making her stomach churn. She backed away from the nauseating sight.

"Come on! What are you waiting for? You can do it, Hope."

_Bang!_

Hope jumped. The Death Eater was trying to get inside. She gulped and returned once more to the window, determined to do it this time. She clambered out, perching awkwardly on the window sill while holding the broom with one hand beneath her, and gripping the side of the window with the other.

_Bang!_

Her hands were sweaty, and her heart was pounding like a beast within her, wanting to get out. She squeezed her eyes shut.

_Bang!_

Hope jumped. Air whistled around her ears as she fell, down, down, down... She heard Bill's voice cut through the screaming of the wind. "Pull up! Pull up!"

She yanked the handle with all her might, and the broom obeyed, flying upwards. Wind ruffled her hair as she flew upwards, away from the caslte, away from her childhood home, away from the place of all her misery. The only two people in her life she cared about were gone, and there was nothing holding her back. Michael was still alive, at least. But his mind was gone, tortured into madness most probably. But he was still there. _I promise I'll come back for you, Michael, _she vowed sliently. _I promise._

"This way!" Bill called to her, and she flew towards him.

There was a small hut up ahead, but it looked as if it hadn't been inhabited in quite a while. It's curtains were drawn, and the wood looked old and rotten, as if it would collapse at any moment. Further from that was the edge of a dark forest. Something about it gave Hope the chills, but it looked as if that was where they were heading.

A jet of light suddenly flew past her ear, just missing her. It hit the tail of Bill's broom which promptly exploded into flame. She heard Bill cry out and saw smoke billow out the end of it as his broom started to fall. He was above her, and was descending down quickly. Bill rolled off the side of the flaming broom, and landed with a heavy thunk onto the back of hers. She heard him groan.

She felt her broom pummel down; the weight was too much. It couldn't hold two people all at once. Her insides felt light, suspended in mid-air as they fell. The roof of the hut drew closer and closer. They were going to crash!

"Left!" Bill yelled into her ear. "Pull left!"

Hope yanked the broom left, and they swerved, just missing the hut. They were now headed towards the forest. The trunks of the trees loomed closer.

"Jump!"

Hope leaped off, landing heavily on the ground. Bill rolled a few metres ahead of her, the pack on his back lessening the impact. Jets of light rained down on them, and Hope scrambled up and ran towards the safety of the trees. Her legs sank into the snow with each step, drenching her pants and slowing her down. Bill was already in the cover of the trees, beckoning to her. She finally stepped into the gloom of the forest and looked back at the castle. She could just make out the figure of the Death Eater at the window and see his head of pale blonde hair.

"We have to keep going. Before he sends more people," said Bill, and they set off into the darkness.

There was hardly any snow here; the canopy of the huge trees caught all the flakes, but it was just as cold. Hope could see her breath puff out in little clouds as she panted, already exhausted from the run but ploughing on anyway, desperate not to be caught again. She carefully picked a path among the tangle of roots, wending her way deeper into the shadows. Up in the branches, an owl watched as they scrambled over roots and foliage.The sword at her hip caught onto a bush, and she yanked it out. She still had no idea why Bill had given it to her, but decided to wait and ask later; she could hardly breath, let alone talk.

Her lungs burned with pain, and it felt like her legs were on fire, but still she continued to stumble along the path. Suddenly, she felt herself falling, her leg caught on a particularly big root. She went hurtling foward and was slammed into the back of Bill's pack. Hope's fall was cushioned with the pack underneath her, but Bill fell with a 'umph'.

"You're right, we do need to stop for a bit, but you could have just told me," he joked

"Sorry," she said, too exhausted to say anything else.

Hope plopped herself down on the root that had tripped her, but shivered in the cold. She watched in amazement as Bill pulled two, thick winter cloaks out of the small pack. She took one gratefully, and wrapped in around herself.

"Do you think they're going to come after us?"

Bill nodded. "Definately." He pulled a loaf of bread out of the pack (it seemed to have everything they needed), and tore a large chunk off and handed it to her.

"What were they doing, those Dementors?" Hope asked, chewing the bread slowly.

Bill's face looked grave. "Breeding."

"So they just _vomit _up their young?"

"Well, yes, in a way," he said, but Hope got the feeling that he was not telling her everything.

"So why did you show me that?" she went on.

"I didn't. At least, it wasn't supposed to be there. That was the Room of Requirement. It gives you what you need. I guess they were using it before us, so when we came, we kind of clashed with the other users. But it still gave us what we needed," he added, pointing at the pack.

"That's probably why the room gave me a sword," Hope realised. "Because I can't use a wand."

"You can't do magic?" Bill asked, startled.

Hope shook her head. "We weren't allowed wands."

Bill shook his head in disbelief. Hope undid the scabbard at her belt and drew the sword. It was a glittering silver, and the hilt was heavily encrusted with rubies. Along the side were the words _Godric Gryffindor._

"Godric Gryffindor," Hope read.

"That must be Gryffindor's sword." Hope looked blank, and he explained. "Gryffindor was one of the founders of Hogwarts."

"Oh." Hogwarts had been the name of the castle, before the Death Eaters had overrun it.

"So you lived there all by yourself?" Bill inquired.

"No, I lived with my mum, but she -" Hope stopped, her voice choked with emotion. Tears sprang up at the memory she had so forcefully pushed away. Bill seemed to understand her sudden silence, and he nodded sadly.

"So why did they have you locked up?" he asked, changing the subject.

Hope shrugged. "One of the Death Eaters seemed to recognise me, but I've never seen him before." She took another bite of bread.

"Yes, well, you do look so much like Harry."

There was a pause, and then Hope asked, "so why did they lock _you_ up? They usually just throw in any outsiders with the others."

"They captured me when they found me lurking outside the school. I guess they found out I was a Weasley. Weasley is a dangerous name now, you know. You-Know-Who found out that the Weasleys had a very strong connection to Harry Potter. My guess is that they locked me up to interrogate me later."

"You're from the outside?" Hope asked, surprised.

Bill nodded.

"Are there others like you? Other people that haven't been captured by the Dark Lord?"

Bill sighed, and with his grey hair, he looked older than ever. "Yes, but they're in hiding all over the country." Bill rubbed his hands together to warm them. "Wish we could light a fire, but we can't risk them seeing the smoke."

Hope pulled the cloak tighter around her shoulders.

"We better keep going in a bit. When we're further away from the castle, I can probably Apparate us away."

Hope polished the rest of the bread off in a few big, quick bites and gulped down the skin of water Bill pulled out of the magic pack. She tried to marshall her thoughts and everything that had happened tonight. She sighed and leaned back against the trunk of the tree. An owl hooted somewhere off in the distance. There was a silence between them, but it was not an uncomfortable one.

Hope finally worked up the courage to ask politely, "if you don't mind me asking, but... what happened to your face?"

Silence. Then, "Werewolf."

Hope gasped and her eyes widened. She shrank back from Bill.

He laughed. "Don't worry. I'm not a werewolf. He bit me when he wasn't transformed. The only thing thats changed is that I get a little moody in full moons."

"Oh," said Hope, instantly ashamed of her reaction. She scrabbled for the something to say, and asked, "so where are we going?"

"You'll see," was all Bill said, and he leaned back against the tree opposite hers and closed his eyes.

Hope stared into the depths of the darkness between the looming trunks of the huge trees that surrounded them. If tonights events were a sign of things to come, then she could predict her future was going to be _very _hectic.

* * *

_Thanks for all the great reviews! Hope you all liked this chapter, because I really enjoyed writing it. Tell me what you thought of it._


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